


Almost Paradise

by blakefancier



Series: A Perfect World [11]
Category: Captain America (2011)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-10
Updated: 2012-01-10
Packaged: 2017-10-29 08:13:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/317695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blakefancier/pseuds/blakefancier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Secrets are revealed and Howard gets his groove back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Almost Paradise

Howard stands in the doorway to their—his bedroom, bourbon in hand, and watches Steve sleep. He knows what was going on with Steve. He knows. All the "I love yous" in the world can't keep their breakup from happening.

He takes a sip of his drink and fights the sudden urge to throw the glass across the room.

God.

God, why? Why couldn't he keep the people he loved? Why did they keep slipping from his fingers? Did he really have so little to offer?

He rubs his eyes with the heel of his hand and sighs, which is enough to wake Steve. He finishes his drink, sets the glass on the desk, and walks over to the bed. As he sits, Steve stretches, and makes a sleepy noise.

Howard?" Steve says, yawning.

"Who else?" He leans down, kissing Steve.

"Mmm." Steve smiles against his mouth. "The good stuff."

"Yeah." Howard noses Steve's temple, breathing in the warm, clean smell of him, fighting back the sudden sting in his eyes. "It's what I like."

Steve chuckles softly and slides a hand up to stroke the back of Howard's neck. "You coming to bed or am I sleeping alone again tonight?"

"Just need to put on my pajamas," he says, pulling back.

Steve frowns and brushes fingers along his jaw. "Are you okay, Howard?"

"Fine. Just… just tired."

"You have been working a lot lately." Steve sits up and runs his fingers through Howard's hair. "A lot of late nights."

"You knew I was a workaholic when you married me," he says, trying for humor and falling short.

"Yeah." Steve reaches over and turns on the bedside lamp; Howard winces. "You still mad about the party?"

"That was two weeks ago. I'm not still mad about the party." He picks at a bit of fluff on the blankets. "I was never mad, Steve. Not really."

"But you were upset. You're still upset." Steve put his hand on Howard's. "You gonna tell me why you're still upset?"

"I still don't know why you left. Yeah, I get it; Obi said some mean things about me. So what? You telling me that you don't hear people calling me a son of a bitch down in the mailroom?"

"They're not your friends." Steve lets out a frustrated sigh and runs a hand through his hair. "I guess… I guess I found out that I didn't know you as well as I thought I did, is all. And I… That upset me."

"Because I have bad taste in friends?"

"No." Steve bites his bottom lip and looks into Howard's eyes. "Because I didn't know about Veronica. Your fiancée."

"What—" It feels as if someone's punched him in the gut and he's scrambling to catch his breath. His hands clench into fists and he forces himself to take a breath. "We're not talking about this," he says in his coldest voice and Steve's face goes blank.

"All right." And it's such a polite tone, bland, the sort that Steve used when he was trying very hard to not let his temper get the better of him.

Howard stands because… because he can't do this, he just can't. Steve doesn't say anything as he walks out, and that hurts most of all.

*****

He’s been sitting at his desk for the better part of an hour, staring into a glass of bourbon, not quite taking a drink, when Steve comes into the room.

Steve doesn’t say anything, he just pours himself a glass, settles in a chair and sips his drink. His feet are bare and Howard wonders if they’re cold. They must be, they’re always cold when Howard slips into bed.

"You should buy slippers," he says, his voice surprisingly hoarse.

"Probably." Steve licks his lips and tilts his head. "We don’t have to talk about it, Howard. It’s… It’s none of my business."

He laughs, harsh and bitter. "That's not…. Steve, I was sixteen!"

"Six—"

Howard drains his glass, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and lets out a sigh. "It’s a moot point! I was a stupid kid who… Goddammit!" He closes his eyes and when Steve gently rubs the back of his neck, he leans into the touch.

"It’s all right, Howard. You don’t—"

Howard stops Steve’s words with a kiss. "It hurts. Ten years later and it still hurts. So, just listen. Just…"

Steve nods and pulls back.

Howard pours himself another drink, then sets it down and clasps his hands. "I've known Veronica my whole life. Our parents run in the same social circles: dinner parties, galas, museum openings. We became friends. Our fathers… there were similarities. There were…" He smiles, almost fondly. "We'd compare bruises sometimes."

Steve makes a slightly distressed sound and Howard reaches over to touch his hand.

"We helped one another cope. Then one day she… She lifted her skirt to show me a bruise on her thigh and… She was nineteen and she was the most beautiful girl I had ever known." He laughs. "You know, they say you never fall out of love with the first person you…" Steve raises an eyebrow and he trails off, wondering if that will be true for Steve, wondering if someday Steve will remember him. Love him. "Well, I loved her. I was in love with her. "

"But?" Steve says.

"But nothing. We were kids and we were in love. We thought nothing could touch us. We thought we could go on sneaking around forever." Howard shakes his head. God, he was such a stupid kid. "And then, one day—it was raining, I remember it was raining because she was soaked through and I could see her—she came over and… she was pregnant. I remember… I thought I was going to be sick. She held my hand and she asked me what we were going to do.

"And I remember thinking, I remember thinking, I have to be a man now. I have to act like a man. So I got on one knee and I looked up at her and I said, 'Veronica Sabine, will you marry me.' My voice shook, but I didn't feel sick anymore. She laughed and she pulled me up and kissed me. Her lips were cold, I remember they were cold and she said 'yes, oh, yes, Howard Stark.'" He takes a sip of the bourbon to wash away the bitterness in his mouth.

"But you didn't get married," Steve prompts.

"No," he says softly. "We were stupid kids. We…I thought I could protect her. Maybe she did too."

Steve took his hand and squeezed gently.

Howard smiles. "When we told our parents, we thought they'd yell, they'd scream, they'd… But they just shunted us off into another room while they talked about our future. An hour later, her parents dragged her off and—" Howard takes a drink and licks his lips. "My father… I spent the better part of a month in the hospital. When I got out, she was gone. Her parents sent her off."

"Did you ever see her again?"

"The next year. She was… She married a duke from some tiny little country I'd never heard off." He rubs his mouth against the back of his hand and closes his eyes. He waits for the next question.

"The baby?" Steve asks, voice soft.

"I don't know. I don’t' know if she had it and gave it up or…" His voice trembles and he stops. He clears his throat. "Or if she lost it." He doesn't say, _got rid of it._

"You never asked her?"

"To what end?" He opens his eyes. "I was a sixteen year old kid who got regular beatings from his father for breathing too loud. What the hell could I offer anyone, much less a baby? If there was a baby."

"You don't think she—"

"Don't you see? It doesn't matter! I loved her. We were… we were groping at straws. We were trying to find ways out of our own personal hells." He shakes his head. "Obi thinks I should hate her. But how can I? She got out. She escaped. The duke is a very nice man, who loves her and would never think about laying a finger on her."

"I'd never lay a finger on you, Howard?" Steve strokes his face, frowning slightly.

"You gonna marry me, Captain Rogers? You gonna take me away from all this?" He blinks away the sudden bleariness in his eyes.

"You need me to, Mr. Stark?" Steve slides out of his seat and kneels on the floor. He looks up at Howard, still stroking his face.

"Maybe sometimes. Does that make me weak?"

Steve shakes his head. "No. It makes you human."

"God, that's just as bad." He sniffles and runs his hands through his hair. "You know that I'll always love you, even when—"

"I'm not going to leave you, Howard."

"Oh, baby, everyone does. Everyone does."

*****

Howard breezes past Obadiah's secretary and throws open the door. "You had no right! You had no goddamn right to tell him!"

Obi puts down his pen and sighs. He looks at the secretary, who followed Howard in, and was sputtering her apologies. "It's all right, Mrs. Peterson. Just close the door and make sure we aren't interrupted."

When the door closes behind her, Howard slaps the desk. "I told you that in confidence!"

"I thought your soldier boy would know, since you're so close." Obi shrugs. "You live together, work together, you're even going to parties together. I just thought you'd tell him your deep, dark secrets."

Howard rubs his forehead and sinks into one of the chair. "Leave him alone, Obi."

"Can't a guy be concerned about his friend?"

"Yeah, if it's any guy but you. What's going on?"

Obi sighs and looks thoughtful for a moment. "Your dad asked me to check into your soldier. A Brooklyn boy, Howard? Really?"

"My dad? My—Since when are you in cahoots with my dad?"

"Are you really this naïve, Howard?" Obi shakes his head. "It's one thing to play around with your society boys, or even have a bit of fun with me or the guys on the board. A bit of low-risk fun, I get it. But this guy, Howard, this guy. A poor kid from Brooklyn without two pennies to his name is suddenly living the good life with you in Manhattan. That doesn't seem suspect to you, Howard? Is he blackmailing you?"

"Is he—" Howard jumps to his feet. "No! He is not after my money. He's not… He doesn’t care about that. He cares about *me.*"

"Okay, okay." Obi holds up his hands in a 'stop' gesture. "I'm just worried about you, Howard. I don't want you to get hurt. I know you… you like this guy. Just don't let your emotions get the better of you. If it gets out that you're dilly-dallying with this kid… Well, you're a good friend, Howard, and a damn brilliant engineer, but I'm not going to jeopardize everything I've built because you can't keep it in your pants. Neither is your dad."

Howard smirks at that; this, this he understands. "You're a great businessman, Obi, but you don't know a damn thing about engineering. And my father, my father *used* to be brilliant. I built this company: my designs, my patents, my brilliance. Without me, there wouldn't *be* a Stark Industries. Remember that." He straightens his jacket. "I appreciate your concern, but stay out of my private life. And stay away from Steve, or I promise you, Obadiah, you'll get to see firsthand why the Nazis called me Merchant of Death."

Obi spreads his hands and looks apologetic. "Anything you say, pal."

He smiles. "That's right, anything I say."

When he leaves Obi's office, he feels like a million bucks. This… this is what he's been missing. This feeling. He just needed a reminder, that all. He's Howard Stark and he gets exactly what he wants.

And Howard wants Steve Rogers right where he is.


End file.
